


(a kiss) to take control

by carissima



Series: a kiss [6]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Control, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 03:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16297520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carissima/pseuds/carissima
Summary: Freddie sees more than most on the ice. He can see the whole rink; he knows who’s out of position and where the gaps are for opponents to dart through unscathed. Freddie hates being exposed so he’s not shy about yelling at his teammates to move, to put their bodies between the other guys and him. He likes his chances one-on-one, he wouldn’t be an NHL goaltender if he didn’t, but he appreciates teammates who put themselves on the line so that Freddie doesn’t have to.





	(a kiss) to take control

**Author's Note:**

> a series of short, shorrrrrt fics posted on tumblr, reposted here, unbeta'd

Freddie sees more than most on the ice. He can see the whole rink; he knows who’s out of position and where the gaps are for opponents to dart through unscathed. Freddie hates being exposed so he’s not shy about yelling at his teammates to move, to put their bodies between the other guys and him. He likes his chances one-on-one, he wouldn’t be an NHL goaltender if he didn’t, but he appreciates teammates who put themselves on the line so that Freddie doesn’t have to.

Sometimes, though, Freddie’s the last one standing between them and his goal, and he never hesitates. Doesn’t even take a breath. Eyes sharp, body relaxed, and instinct takes over.

Sometimes, it happens off the ice too. Sometimes, Freddie sees things that no one else does. Sometimes, he can see who’s off-kilter. Out of sync. Sometimes, he puts himself on the line, one-on-one, to make sure his team is okay.

Sometimes, he puts a hand on Auston’s shoulder in the locker room. Puts enough weight into it that Auston physically deflates in front of him. Freddie knows the signs now. They’re not hard to figure out, but Auston has a habit of brushing everything off until he’s staggering under the weight of some unknown issue, when he gets a little too giddy at practice, when his chirps land a little meaner than they should be. There’s a million different signs and Freddie recognises enough of them now.

Sometimes, he puts his hand on Auston’s shoulder, waits for Auston to relax underneath him, and they share a look.

“Hey Marns,” Freddie calls over his shoulder. He keeps his gaze on Auston. Knows Auston needs it.

“Yeah Fred?” Mitch appears next to him, takes one look at Auston and sighs. “You’re taking him?”

“Yeah,” Freddie says. Sees the way Auston’s gaze flickers just a little before he focuses.

Mitch nods, ducks down to murmur something in Auston’s ear that Freddie doesn’t hear, isn’t meant to hear, and then the two of them are out of there, Freddie’s hand loosely holding Auston’s wrist. They always take Freddie’s car, since they’re going back to his place. Auston always spends half the journey flicking through stations but Freddie doesn’t mind.

Auston follows him into the house, drops his stuff by the door and heads for the kitchen. Freddie lets him pile food on two plates while he changes into non-Leafs clothes. He always does when they do this, like it’s something personal, not team-related. Which is kind of stupid, because they’re on the same team, and he does this to make sure Auston’s okay. To be the last person facing down Auston’s demons for him, to go one-on-one with the knowledge that he’s going to win every time.

But he changes clothes anyway.

They eat in front of Freddie’s big screen, just some highlights from the night before. Auston’s pretending to be relaxed next to him, his big body sprawled in the very definition of casual.

Freddie’s not fooled.

He takes their empty plates into the kitchen and dumps them in the sink for later. Auston appears behind him, fills a glass of water and turns to look at Freddie.

Auston always makes Freddie work for it, when he pushes Auston against the counter and kisses him. The first time, Freddie had backed off and Auston had pushed back at him, frustrated. Freddie hadn’t realised then what Auston needed.

Now, he pins Auston in place. Auston’s big but Freddie’s bigger. Auston’s hands are large but Freddie’s are larger. Auston’s got the strength to push. Freddie’s stronger.

Freddie kisses him; long, slick kisses until Auston finally let’s go and slumps against him. Freddie takes his weight, slides his hands around Auston’s waist and hauls him even closer. Kisses him until Auston squirms against him and Freddie lets go, watches with dark eyes as Auston sinks to his knees between Freddie’s spread legs.

Then it’s Freddie’s turn to let go, one hand twisting in Auston’s hair, pulling just hard enough to make Auston pant.

The first time they did this, Auston came in his pants, untouched. That’s when Freddie figured him out, had made Auston sit down and talk to him about what he wanted. What he needed.

Now, Freddie likes to take Auston into his bedroom and strip him down. Likes to make Auston tremble and beg, if Auston wants to. Sometimes he doesn’t.

Today, he begs.

Today, he lets Freddie curl up around him afterwards, lets Freddie stroke his hands up and down Auston’s body until he stops shaking.

Today, Freddie wonders if this is the day Auston asks for more. Whether he asks Freddie for something he wants to give Auston anyway. Sometimes Auston looks at him and Freddie thinks this could be it. Freddie’s not afraid of one-on-one. He relishes it. But he likes being on a team. He thinks he and Auston could be good as a team of two.

Auston doesn’t ask today. He lets Freddie hold his hand while they drift off, but he doesn’t ask.

Maybe tomorrow, Freddie thinks sleepily, his fingers tightening without conscious thought. Maybe tomorrow.


End file.
